Buddhism; How Maintained
The hoary system of Buddhism must have some elements of vitality to
keep it in existence through the twenty-six centuries of its history.
That it has long since passed the stage of its greatest power is quite
easily believed. That such a system could remain the religion of
progressive races under the light of the present and the future, as
indicated by the present, few will maintain. That the number of its
present adherents has been greatly exaggerated, there is no doubt. Some
of the peoples which have been classed as Buddhistic in religion are
clearly not distinctively of that faith.
Sir Monier Williams, in his great work on Buddhism, says that of real
Buddhists, who are not more identified with some other religion than
with it, number not over one hundred millions of adherents, instead
of five hundred millions, as some have claimed. He declares that
Christianity, and not Buddhism, is the strongest religion numerically
in the world.
But a religion with even one hundred millions of reasonably faithful
adherents of its doctrines and practices demands our respectful study.
It is not possible within the limits here defined for the writer to
discuss the many-sidedness of Buddhism, for all the elements of a faith
must have consideration in an attempt to set it forth comprehensively.
It is the writer’s intention merely to outline some features of
Buddhism most apparent to a missionary whose work lies in a Buddhist
country. Buddhism is said to be in its purest form in Burma and Ceylon.
A few general statements may be made. Buddhism never claimed to be
divine in its origin. It was originally entirely atheistic. It is
hardly entitled to be called a religion. It is the most pessimistic
philosophy ever taught among men, or even conceived as yet, by any
teacher. It inveighs against all natural desires or emotions however
exalted, and disallows the holiest relationship. Society itself could
not exist if the fundamental teachings of Buddhism were observed. All
innocent joys are prohibited among those who would attain to _Nirvana_.
It makes self-destruction the highest aim of man. To cease to be born,
and to extinguish personal consciousness, is set before its followers
as the final goal to be sought. How can such a system, so opposed to
all that men love, find millions of adherents?
There certainly is a fascination about the supreme renunciation in the
system. Gautama certainly renounced much; and doubtless many of his
followers have made such a sacrifice of desires as he. It is not here
maintained that this renunciation is wholly unselfish, but that it lies
at the foundation of Buddhism; and however unhealthful a sentiment it
is, it has always appealed to many minds. Those who will not make such
renunciations themselves revere those who do, and help sustain a system
that teaches such tenets.
Another source of the power of Buddhism is found in the system of
doctrine taught. It is all the stronger in that, as a system, it is
connected with a great teacher. It is true that Buddhism has more in it
which Gautama did not teach, than of that which he did teach. But it
is very easy for the Buddhist to connect any teaching of his religion
directly with his idea of Gautama. When a religion with a system of
doctrine meets with the nebulous beliefs and incoherent practices of
demonology, or like beliefs, it must steadily gain adherents. Buddhism
has a literature of much importance. To have sacred books, which can
be appealed to in support of the voice of the living preacher, or
teacher, is a great source of power. We see in Burma that the more
backward races are becoming Burmanized and converted to the Buddhist
religion. When they have become Buddhists, as in the case of Karens, it
is the testimony of all missionaries that they are much more difficult
to convert to Christianity. This Buddhist “law” is one of the three
objects of reverence, or worship, enjoined by Gautama.
Gautama exalted the brotherhood of monks. They have become one of the
three objects of veneration. Dressed in their yellow robes and admitted
to the monastic order, they are thereby exalted in the minds of
Buddhists far above the ordinary man. So much so, that in all addresses
to them the highest terms of honor are used. On some occasions they
are actually worshiped. When a monk, or _poungyi_, leaves the assembly
of monks, which is frequently the case, he at once drops to the level
of the ordinary man. But while he is a member of the order, he is
regarded as a superior, worthy of all reverence even by his own family.
These monks, with their yellow robes and beads and boy attendants, are
everywhere, except at weddings and festivals, though often gathering
in crowds a little apart from the latter. The daily going forth with
the begging bowl to receive the food given by the devout, or even
respectable laity, is an object-lesson in Buddhism. The distinctive
buildings called _choungs_, in which the monks always live, are found
in every village; and whole blocks of these buildings in all towns and
cities proclaim the teachers of Buddhism. These houses of the monks
are invariably the best buildings in the village. This conspicuous
advertisement of the monastic teachers does much to keep the system
which they represent ever before the people in a conspicuous way.
[Illustration: BUDDHIST MONK AND ATTENDANT]
But the monks do two distinctive services for their faith of a more
positive kind. They teach practically every boy in Burma. They teach
the boys to read, and they indoctrinate them. No boy is considered to
have a human spirit at all. He must remain an animal until he has spent
at least one day in the monastery. But aside from this approach to
the sacred order of monks, all Burmese boys attend school for some
length of time, and usually learn to read their language passably well.
They certainly learn the Buddhist doctrines. So it comes to pass that
most Burmese know what they believe, however inconsistent with this
belief they live. They also learn the elements of arithmetic, as well
as the grotesque teachings of Buddhism in geography of these teachers.
In estimating the strength of Buddhism, and its ability to maintain
itself, the monastic school, uniting a religious order with the
instruction of all the male childhood and youth, stands easily first of
all its sources of power.
There are schools conducted by laymen in almost every large village.
These schools do not generally have a continuous existence, but so
long as a teacher can get scholars he keeps his school going. In these
lay schools also some Buddhistic instruction is imparted. So that the
Buddhist youth is the exception who has not been indoctrinated with
Buddhist teaching. Without knowing why he is a Buddhist, nevertheless
he proclaims himself as a Buddhist, and will give a fair statement of
his belief. The missionary must bring his message to a mind pre-empted
by Buddhist doctrine taught by the yellow-robed monk.
From this statement of the Buddhist school system of the Burmese, and
to its power as a religious agency, the reader, as does the missionary,
will see the imperative need of Christian schools to take the place of
the Buddhist schools. Their efficiency as a missionary agency can not
be over-estimated. Each of the large missions now operating in Burma
has adopted this strategic agency with very encouraging results. Many
Buddhists do not hesitate to send their boys to a mission school if it
is equipped to do superior work. Here, then, is Christianity’s greatest
opportunity among the young. That mission will show greatest wisdom
which gives Christian schools of the higher grades special attention.
There are doctrines of Buddhism, aside from the moral precepts or
regulations for the conduct or belief of its adherents, which may be,
all unconsciously to the Buddhist, of great attraction. Buddhism, as
has been noted, like most other Eastern philosophies, teaches that men
pass through many births through countless ages, and transmigration
through men, animals, and spirits. This transmigration may be endless,
and will be, if the individual does not attain to _Nirvana_. Now, while
a man’s place in the scale of being is determined by the conduct of
the life that now is, there is nothing final in this life as affecting
destiny. If he sinks in the scale of being, he can rise in the same by
his conduct in another existence. The time taken to make his recovery
from the consequences of his demerits in this life may be ages; still
he can retain all that he has lost by a bad life here. It therefore
comports with men’s wish that they can commit acts not wholly agreeable
to the known or believed rules of conduct, and yet they believe they
can escape after a long time the consequences of such trifling with
their moral code. It is a pleasant belief of human nature, wishing
to indulge in that which is forbidden, to sacrifice some future
blessedness for a present gratification, if at the same time the man
can believe that the loss may at some future time be recovered. To a
temporizing conscience this is a very comforting doctrine.
Buddhism teaches that character and states of existence are determined
finally by a man’s unaided efforts. Human nature in all lands takes
kindly to such teaching. If men could purchase salvation at a price
in payment or sacrifice of even life itself, there would be many
applicants for eternal life, who will not receive it as a gift.
Buddhism is very complimentary to self-conceit when it teaches that
we need no God to enlighten us, no Savior to save us, but that we
can recover ourselves. That only our own acts can affect our scale
of being and ultimately determine our destiny, in every varying
merit or demerit, is believed. Building and gilding a pagoda lays
up a great store of merit, and to engage in meditation is the most
meritorious work of all. Their whole system of the merit of works
breeds inordinate conceit, and hence is a very pleasant doctrine to
men. To save themselves, and not to be saved by the vicarious sacrifice
of another, is pleasing to pride. I think all agree that this belief in
self-acquired merit is one of the strongest bulwarks of Buddhism.
The student of religion who looks for its effect on the people, is at
first perplexed at a singular paradox among the Burmese Buddhists. He
finds a religion that frowns upon the innocent joys of life, and much
more upon all spectacular demonstrations. It especially discourages
theatricals and feasting. The natural effect of such a religion would
be to depress the spirit and overshadow the life. It would pluck
up all gayety from a people. But we find the Burmese Buddhists the
gayest and most light-hearted race of the Orient. Their religion to
the contrary, they have more music, dancing, and theatricals than
any other people. And in all this they regard themselves as the most
consistent Buddhists. They even connect a festival with almost every
special religious duty. It therefore comes to pass that they harmonize
festal joys with the utter prohibition of them by their religion, and
count the practice and the “law” that interdicts it equally “good.”
By observing this fact, it is clear that the drastic prohibitions of
Buddhism have no place at all in life practice. If, therefore, this
contradiction of Buddhism does not add to its strength, it at least
allows the adherent to accept and reject such portions of the Buddhist
law as may be convenient, and as suits his fun-loving and easy-going
disposition. In this way the Burman comforts himself with the belief
that he is a devout Buddhist, and at the same time escapes all the
depressing effects on his nature that would result if he actually
undertook to keep either the letter or spirit of the Buddhist law. So
it appears this paradox is explained.
[Illustration: FUNERAL PYRE OF A BURMESE PRIEST]
Examples of their ability to turn any circumstance into a festival
is seen at their funerals. When an ordinary man dies the friends gather
and bring food, and keep up a several days’ feasting. On the day of the
funeral long lines of oxcarts are drawn up, each with some offering
for the _poungyis_, or priests. These gifts to the priests seem to
be about the only religious part of the ceremonies. Then with bands
playing, and often dancers and buffoons performing at the head of the
procession, they move away to the burial ground. On several occasions I
saw half-drunken men carrying the coffin on a tall, loosely-constructed
framework, dancing with all their might under their burden. Sometimes
it seemed the coffin would fall to the ground.
I have seen the burial of a Buddhist nun where the procession contained
sixty-one stands of presents, one for each year of the nun’s life,
carried in front of the corpse. These presents were intended for the
priests, and they enabled the donors to gain merit, make a show, and
enjoy a festival all in one. The presents were of plates, towels, and
carpets, amounting to about ten dollars a stand, or over six hundred
dollars in value in all. The _poungyis_ often preach against the
festivals, but I have never heard that they ever refused to receive the
presents, an indispensable feature of the display.
There are great festivals gotten up at the burning of a priest who
has been much venerated. He may have enjoyed a reputation for great
learning, and perhaps lived to a good old age. The body is kept, if
the priest should die in the rainy season, until the dry weather brings
a time suitable for camping in the fields. Arrangements having been
completed, a place, usually a cleared rice field, is selected, and
booths are constructed to accommodate the gathering people. Material
is procured, and a very large skeleton framework of dry poles is
constructed in imitation of the seven-fold roof of a monastery. This
framework is covered over with matting and paper, on which is much
ornament, usually of a pictorial character. Great ropes are drawn
high up into the framework, where it is designed the coffin shall be
placed before the burning. A procession is formed to bring the body in
great state, with all kinds of symbolical banners and imitations of
the sacred elephant. The casket is placed on these great ropes, and
skillfully drawn into the tower of the structure. When the body is once
in its place, the younger men hastily take up burning spears, as fire
brands, and hurl them into the combustible material, and in an instant
all is aflame. Soon there is nothing but ashes. The camp is broken up,
and the people return home. They have had a great festival lasting in
preparation over many days, and have performed a pious work of merit.
They have violated much of Buddhist teaching; but by their spectacular
festival they have helped to perpetuate Buddhism in the community. I
witnessed preparation for one such burning near Rangoon. The firing of
the pyre occurred on Sunday, amidst a great throng of all the nations
represented in Burma. The full account was given in the daily papers,
and it is said that thirty thousand dollars was spent in cremating the
one body, that of a noted monk. Recent word from Mandalay tells of the
cremation of the body of the chief bishop of Buddhism in Burma. It is
said twenty thousand people were present at this festival. Yet the
bishop had always preached that all festivity was wrong, and the whole
Buddhist people declared the “law” was good.
The same contradictions are apparent in their theological teaching. One
instance will suffice as an illustration. Fish is a common and much
appreciated article of food in Burma, and has been for centuries. The
people have come to regard fish as necessary to their food as rice.
This creates a great demand for fish, and consequently calls for a
multitude of fishermen. But by Buddhist teaching the fishermen, or
the hunter, is doomed to the deepest hell for taking life. They teach
that there are four great hells, one below another, and the fisherman
is doomed to go to the bottom of the lowest hell, and can not get out
till he spends fifty million years in each of the four hells. And only
after that could he hope to be born a man again on earth. Meantime
the well-fed Burman who fattens on the fish, who made the fisherman
necessary, thinks he not only has no responsibility for the other’s
sin, but is making good headway toward _Nirvana_! The fisherman, when
interviewed, is quite at ease. Question him of the sin of taking the
life of the fish, and he will confidently tell you: “I do not kill the
fish. I only drag it out of the water, and the hot sun kills it.” Both
declare themselves good Buddhists, and that “the Buddhist law is good.”
It leaves liberty enough for any number of specious pleas to avoid
personal responsibility for violating the Buddhist prohibitions, while
the votaries of Buddhism are still pretending to keep the “law.”